The Hunt for Solomon
by Cosmicboy
Summary: A new threat puts the metro on the precipice of war. A young man, trapped at a dying station finds himself embroiled in a conflict that will determine who holds the keys to power for decades to come.


_First chapter of a short story based of the book: Metro 2033. Events take place some time after the first book by Dmitry Glukhovsky. This story does not follow the games by Deep Silver and 4A Games, ignoring the alternative future in Metro: Last Light which deviates from the books, but the story does take inspiration from the world they created in their games. _

* * *

**Chapter 1: Whispers of the Night**

'First you skin it. Always best rat, skinless rat! Remember that Nikolay. This is Rimskaya special you know? Big hit before the plague, two sticks one rat! So simple its genius Nikolay, genius! Don't be listening to them rumours now, rat makes you strong not sick. Now Nikolay did I tell you... Nikolay?... Nikolay pay attention now!'

Nikolay turned from the darkness and grimaced at the sight of Marat flipping his rat kebabs over the open fire, his usually sunken brown eyes were bristling with pride at the chance of passing on what little was left of Rimskaya culture. But Nikolay could not find a smile to share with the dirty old trader. His stomach would not allow it. It craved real meat, anything but rodent. It didn't seem all that long ago when Kashirskaya was still an open market for traders who came and went with regularity, offering pork and other delicacies in return for the salvaged goods acquired by the stations stalkers, the best in the metro.

The station had made its living being a hub between the south and south-western lines. Kolomenskaya from the north and Kantemirovskaya from the south had both formed alliances with Kashirskaya in order to survive. But since the tunnel collapse between Kolomenskaya and Avtozavodskaya in the north, the rot had set in. Limited access to the metro network had left the southernmost stations dependant on each other and with traders refusing to brave the abandoned line from Nagatinskaya to Sevastopolskaya; the southern quadrant was effectively cut-off from the metro.

The tunnel collapse was catastrophic. It wasn't long till starvation was common place with many fleeing north along the cursed Sevastopolskaya line out of sheer desperation. Population numbers had fallen by more than half and those that were now left were often either too sick to travel or too old to start anew. Stalker activity had also died out as those with the means to travel, even if that meant across the surface, sought a life elsewhere. The benefits that had bought Kashirskaya prosperity: being located below a military base, and having focused their efforts on salvage by replacing Livestock and holdings with warehousing and storage units, had ultimately cost them dearly in the end.

And so overtime the southern quadrant fell into ruin, tunnels no longer maintained, bandits were reportedly on the rise, and rumours even spread of cannibals occupying the far most southern stations long ago abandoned by civilization.

"Come Nikolay sit," said Vladimir from across the fire, a seasoned veteran who, like Marat, had become a resident of Kashirskaya by way of bad timing.

Nikolay rested his clumsy machine gun against the sandbags and headed over to Marat and Vladimir a few metres back, taking a seat around the scorched oil drum waiting for the rats to cook.

"So Nikolay, Marat's been telling me you want to go west to Varshavskaya to help Oleg with the merchandise. I know the man is sick Nikolay, and you want to help, but you've barely tasted this life. What experience a young man like you have of these tunnels, hey? Dangerous times Nikolay. Best leave it for those with nothing to lose. Your time will come soon enough. Be patient son," said Vladimir as he moved closer to the flames.

"Like this is anymore safer." snorted Marat with amusement. "Who knows what next will come out of Kolomenskaya and its sewers. We should have blown up this tunnel when we had the chance and left with the others."

Nikolay found himself in agreement and turned to face the barricade and the darkness that pressed against his back. "All we're doing here is waiting, waiting for death. They've all forgotten us… even Polis," he muttered; as much to himself as the others.

"Nonsense!" shouted Vladimir across the fire, surprising both Nikolay and Marat. "Polis will help, just you wait and see!" his grizzly grey chin was bobbing up and down as he gave Nikolay a condemning look. He was angry or nervous, Nikolay couldn't tell. "You let this region fall and others will follow. People need to believe in the system for it to work. Polis knows this. They will come."

Nikolay had never heard the old man talk like this with such voice, such passion, or was it something else… was it fear? He didn't like the way that idea unsettled him and so tried to suppress it quickly, but the seed had already been planted and its roots had buried deep, popping in and out of his consciousness confronting him with questions better left unanswered.  
If a veteran of the metro like Vladimir was afraid, a man who had once worked in debt collection for the Hansa, one of the most dangerous jobs imaginable; then what hope could any of them have looking forward to the future? Nikolay regretted having opened his stupid mouth. He even tried focusing on the skewers of all things to change the conversation going on in his head, but just the sight of that roasted black flesh fizzling and dripping into those fiery depths seemed to bring death closer from the darkness.

"Okay, fun time is over. This kebab isn't going to eat itself", Marat shuffled forward and began handing out the kebabs ignoring Nikolay's protests by forcing a couple of skewers into his hands. "Eat while the eating is good", he said with a wink towards Nikolay, who wisely withheld from making a crude remark.

Silence had returned one more to the one hundred metre mark as the men ate, yet all the while everyone was on constant alert, listening in for anything otherworldly coming from the north.

Marat's head shot up suddenly, his eyebrows stretching against his frown line, "you hear that?" he asked no one in particular.

"No and neither did you," said Vladimir abruptly. Nikolay listened but he couldn't hear a thing out of the usual, just the sounds of aching pipes and a ghostly draught that occasionally whistled against the empty cans and bottles that were strategically placed before the boarder as an early warning system.

"Ah well maybe it was –" a clash of tin and a scuffle from afar made them all freeze. Dropping everything they threw themselves against the sandbags. Nikolay clasped the machine gun, cocked it, and peeped above his iron sights on top the sandbags. His heart racing he frantically scanned the arched walls and floor for movement.

Marat and Vladimir were both wedged in at either side of Nikolay. Backs against the defences they were armed with an old bolt-action rifle and a bastard of an assault rifle prone to jamming, they would provide meagre support if things should get dire.

The small bonfires that flickered ten yards or so in front of the defences provided little illumination, Nikolay squinted hard but couldn't make out anything in the distance. Marat was mumbling to himself and Nikolay noticed he had something in his hands. The old trader inched his head over, and peering out like a captain at sea looked for incoming threats through his grey binoculars. The other two waited for word of what caused the disturbance.

Another rattle came from afar.

"I see it!" whispered Marat. "It's a big one." He remained transfixed on his target. Nikolay trying to pinpoint Marat's line of sight, focused as hard as he could but the darkness was like a fog, unsurpassable by regular vision.

"It's not a crawler is it?" asked Vladimir. "Tell us where it's at… Come on Marat let's take it now!" he was getting anxious.

Nikolay thought he saw something and was about to let loose with a burst when without a word Marat put down his binoculars and got up and walked back towards the fire to the disbelief of his comrades. He made some noise as he sorted through a ragged old gym bag pulling out a shoe box, a small air-pistol resembling an old luger, and a yellow infrared torch. He opened the box and carefully lifted out some odd looking glasses, the lenses of which seemed to cover half his face. He fastened them on with straps at the back of his head and headed back out towards the sandbags.

"Count to two hundred. If I'm not back, don't shoot, okay!" he said as he passed them both and vanished into the abyss.

Nikolay turned to Vladimir for answers and was surprised to see the old veteran smiling.

"A rat Nikolay... it's a bloody rat!" he said wiping away the beads of sweat that had settled along his brow. "I guess suppers come early today."

Nikolay breathed out a sigh of relief and watched as Vladimir collapsed in exhaustion against the sandbags, he immediately begun to roll himself some weed and the colour was returning slowly to his face.

"My gut can't take this anymore Nikolay. I'm going to see the chief tomorrow, get myself a comfy seat at the fifty metre mark. I've had more than my fair share of scares. If he refuses, I'm walking." He said defiantly.

Nikolay reminded himself of Vladimir's past as a debt collector. It had been a lonely job with many risks. It was known of stations to shoot unarmed debt collectors on sight simply by way of reputation, protecting the wealth and future of families and friends and sometimes even the station itself from the greedy hands of the Hansa. Vladimir had often talked of his near misses and chance escapes from angry mobs and trigger happy guards thirsty for revenge. Even so, Nikolay had grown to respect the old man but knew that he was in the minority for many at Kashirskaya still distrusted him, considering him an outsider; he was held with the same revulsion as any common thief or murderer.

"Listen Nikolay, I can't stop you going to Varshavskaya with Oleg, that's up to the chief and Oleg. But if you don't heed my warnings then listen closely. There is a man at Varshavskaya, Adnan his name. He's like a brother to me Nikolay, go way back. If you need a friend there, find him. He used to work in administration for the Hansa: passports and documentation, a real pro, had been a lawyer before the… well, you know. Heard he got stuck in Varshavskaya while on business for the Hansa, probably too afraid to travel back north now; But then who would? Those tunnels are abandoned for a reason. Anyhow, you tell him Vladimir the cruel said you owe him. He'll understand. If he plays stupid… well, you kick his shins in. He'll understand that too." A devilish grin had set on Vladimir's face as he finished rolling his joint, and Nikolay wondered what he had meant. But before he had time to ask a chilling shriek drove fiercely from the tunnel depths. It was Marat.

"Marat!" cried Vladimir as he stumbled to his feet, "Marat!"

Silence

If it wasn't for the crackling of the fire wood and its dreary glow against his back, Nikolay would have been certain that the air had gone noticeably colder.

"Marat!" said Vladimir once more. This time his voice broke off as if he didn't want to disturb the silence for too long, not sure what may respond, and perhaps not wanting to find out.

Time seemed to slow down for Nikolay as he stared out into the void. There was a growing presence in this tunnel; he had sensed it from the moment he had first heard Marat's scream. He suddenly felt incredibly exposed, as if his very soul was being observed by some sort of intelligence, something not human that moved through this realm effortlessly without boundaries, not of the material world, it bore down on him from a thousand angles peering deep into his core. Nikolay noticed that the tiny white hairs along his hands were standing to attention as if he had somehow been dropped into the eye of an electric storm. He pulled up his collar and put on his gloves but the sensation remained and the presence grew stronger.

He saw it first. Vladimir had been whispering him something but Nikolay was a world away. His attention had been captured by a small misty glow, green in colour, which was eerily creeping closer and closer as if it hoped to go unnoticed. It seemed to be of about heads height and this realisation made Nikolay's gut curdle. Nikolay had heard of ghosts and other unexplainable things contrary to the law of physics, but he never believed they were anything other than myths conjured up by the bored and the insane. It seemed to pulse on and off inconsistently, reappearing a bit closer and a bit brighter each time. He could see now in the corner of his eyes that Vladimir too had noticed, his gun was shaking against the sandbags and Nikolay could have sworn he heard him say "sewer spirits!" in a sputter of madness. Nikolay knew better then to look at the old man now for fear of losing his bottle, so instead kept his sights on the misty substance as it steadily approached.

It was nearing the first bonfires along the border now and Nikolay couldn't remain silent any longer, he had to act. "Stop or we'll shoot," he shouted trying to sound threatening but his throat was tight and it had shot out of him in a girlish squeal.

It continued moving forward and a muffled soulless noise crackled through the damp air. What it said Nikolay didn't know for Vladimir had already had enough, his nerves having won out, he released a shot from his rifle at the centre of the weightless mass.

There was a pop, like that of an over inflated balloon as the light dispersed followed by a heavy clunk against the rails, the shockwaves of which had sent several of the tin cans with in the proximity clattering like skittles across the surface.

Silence

"I think you got it", whispered Nikolay, his mind suddenly far more clear as if a pressure valve had been released inside his head.

"It may not be dead just yet. Hold on… let me take another shot…" said Vladimir, his voice cold and heartless. It seemed that in the face of death the nerves had finally fled the old veteran, leaving in its place the calm and composed figure that Nikolay had previously known so well.

"Wait! Don't shoot!" came a voice from the shadows, "I'm friendly... Please, don't shoot!"

But Vladimir wasn't buying it. His eyes were burning with rage as he sought to bring justice down upon the monstrous scum that had taken his comrade away.

"You can't fool me demon!" he said laughing like a madman. "You crossed paths with the wrong Russian."

Vladimir turned and pulled back the bolt, bumping up a new cartridge from the clip and pushing it back forwards in one single action, chambering a new round. He took aim.

"I have your friend, he's badly injured and in need of medical attention. I am coming forwards, I repeat do not fire!"

This time uncertainty crawled along the veterans face, his cheeks twitched and Nikolay saw his finger had moved away from the trigger.

"Come slowly into the light or don't come at all", he said after a short pause.

Nikolay watched as the murky figure of a man came in line with the bonfires. He was holding something in his arms and Nikolay knew at once from the slim shape of the silhouette that it was Marat; he looked lifeless with his arms dangling freely and his head hanging down. As the man drew into view Nikolay could see he was wearing some sort of full body suit, it was black and well-padded with knee and elbow pads with high-laced boots, and a helmet covered in fabric with some sort of device fixed atop.  
Vladimir's face had gone pale at the sight of Marat, he was still on guard like Nikolay uncertain of this strangers intentions but his concern had clearly shifted to helping his old comrade.

"I found him", said the stranger as he made his way around the sand bags. Nikolay had backed off towards Vladimir's position, his gun was aimed towards the man at all times and had motioning him with the barrel to put Marat down by the oil drum, where there was space and where the stranger could be seen more clearly.

Nikolay could see the man's face now. He was young, not likely much older than himself with a dark unkempt beard then ended at his adam's apple where a full-face gasmask hung around his neck. He was stocky, of average height and carried over his back two machine guns and a green rucksack. He looked for confirmation in the eyes of Nikolay it was safe to place Marat down and he nodded back approving.

"He's not dead, though he would have been if I had been any slower", he said whilst panting, trying to catch his breath. "He passed out, but he's alive."

Nikolay moved closer and looked at Marat in shock. His face and torso were covered in a yellow slime that was dripping of him onto a rug by the fire. His eyes were closed and it was hard to tell if he was breathing. "What did this?" he heard himself saying feeling somewhat detached from his body his mind struggled to deal with the scene. He wasn't sure he wanted an answer but he knew it was necessary.

The stranger was still trying to get his breath back having still kneeling since lowering the old trader. "It looked like, well, like… a slug with arms, but huge!" he began to explain. "Whatever it was I've never seen anything like it before. I was heading from Kolomenskaya when I heard the scream. I snuck forward around the bend in the line and there it was. Luckily for me I still had a bit of life left in my torch," he pointed somewhat sarcastically to the device atop his helmet and Nikolay realised then, somewhat ashamed, that the green haunting glow that had set his imagination running wild was nothing more than a military grade headlamp, no longer functioning thanks to Vladimir. "OK, so now I was close, and I could see it was pointing its rear over your friends face and its grub-like body was contracting forcing this," he pointed towards the slime, "out over his face. Luckily for your friend it saw me and scurried off through some hole below an abandoned rail car. I shined alight in it but it looked deep, no idea where it went to–"

"The sewers" said Vladimir, butting in as he kneeled down besides Marat. "They come from the sewers. The tunnel collapse damaged the foundations up there exposing us to them. That's why Kolomenskaya is empty, people were disappearing. We tried to fill in the sink holes but there too big and there's too many off them."

"What about explosives?" asked the stranger.

"No good. The tunnel isn't stable enough for that," said Vladimir. The stranger nodded despondently and made a hand gesture to reach inside his bag which Vladimir permitted, his gun still aimed towards the man's waist.

"Who are you?" said Nikolay as Vladimir began brushing off the slime. Marat's face was pale and if it wasn't for the strangers reassurances he would have been convinced he was dead.

The stranger hesitated and Nikolay clutched at his gun, "Who-Are-You?" Nikolay said once more, this time demanding a response.

"I come from Polis. I need to speak to your chief. It is most urgent." He had begun munching on some sort of sausage from his bag and Nikolay's stomach rumbled with envy.

"How did you get here then?" said Vladimir, his tone more cynical then before. "There's no way through that tunnel. So how did you do it? Don't lie, I'll know." He said patting the top of his rifle.

"There's an emergency hatch at Kolomenskaya, it was well hidden but I had directions. Luckily for me it wasn't locked from the inside, otherwise I would have been in some serious shit!" He laughed. Vladimir looked surprised but Nikolay didn't understand and the stranger picked up on this. "The surface, I came down from the surface."

"A stalker?" said Nikolay. He had never seen one kitted out like this before.

"Sure, you could say that," he replied with a smile.

Vladimir lowered his gun and seeing the questioning stare from Nikolay he said "Its ok, he's telling the truth, I should know… I was the one who had made sure that it was unlocked when we abandoned Kolomenskaya. Only a very select few know of that hatch or where to find it." He smiled and the stranger chuckled. They shook hands and something passed between the two of them that Nikolay failed to hear.

After some brief refreshments the stalker made his move, he ordered Vladimir to stay behind as he and Nikolay would head on to the station. Nikolay was needed to carry the gear and to vouch for the stalker when they reached the guards at the fifty metre mark who was carrying Marat. He was also reminded several times by Vladimir to send up the next shift ahead of time for he didn't want to be left alone with 'that thing!' out there, lurking in the shadows.

Only once did they speak during their trek back to Kashirskaya for the weight was to taxing for such luxuries. Nikolay was amazed the stalker had somehow managed to carry all his gear as well as Marat, and now felt he understood why he had approached the border so slowly.

"Tell me one thing," said Nikolay. "Why did you not respond when we called to you?"

"I did," said the stalker grimacing under the weight of Marat. "But you didn't hear it."

"No shit!" replied Nikolay.

"Yeah, No shit. Well… you see. I made a fools mistake."

Nikolay looked at the stalker with his torch and saw he was smiling.

"I forgot to take my gas mask off," he said, and they both broke into laughter. The noise was such that they had managed to alert the guards at the fifty metre mark whose concerned voices could be heard echoing down the tunnel demanding clarification.

"So, what do I call you?" said the stalker as they neared the next guard post.

Nikolay replied with a mocking salute, "Private Nikolay, at your service."

"Well, pleased to meet you Nikolay," said the stalker. "I'm Artyom."


End file.
